


Wrapped in Darkness and Silence

by just_another_outcast



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo (Prodigal Son) [1]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Medical Experimentation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Papa Gil, Platonic Cuddling, Pseudoscience, Sensory Deprivation, Strangulation, Temporary Blindness, temporary deafness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29871231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_outcast/pseuds/just_another_outcast
Summary: Following a lead on a case can always go awry, but it usually doesn't end up in an illegal lab, being experimented on. Gil finds this out the hard way when he takes Malcolm out to follow a lead, and the kid ends up as a pin cushion for their drug tests. All Gil can do is watch, and pray that Dani and JT save them in time.(BTHB: sensory deprivation)
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo (Prodigal Son) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196153
Comments: 20
Kudos: 45
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Wrapped in Darkness and Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts).



> For my darling Sab. She has been through soooooooooo much lately and deserves all of your love. She's also one of the greatest human beings to exist <3 :)
> 
> This really got away from me, but I love it, and I hope you all do too!!!

Gil could barely keep the smile off his own face as his kid rambled on and on next to him. Malcolm could talk forever about nothing, and although Gil did occasionally enjoy some peace and quiet, a smiling and rambling Malcolm was a happy Malcolm, and that was the most important thing to Gil. So he would listen to Malcolm go on and on about the horrific yet incredibly intriguing effects on the mind of the new wave of drugs that had hit the city. There were only a few cases so far, but it was some of the most horrific stuff that Gil had ever seen. At least, Edrisa had assured him that the victims would've been in more agony than any case he'd worked before. What exactly the drugs were was the question. The labs just couldn't figure it out. This was a new compound, synthesized from a bunch of science things that Gil couldn't even begin to understand. There was a reason he went into law enforcement instead of neuroscience.

"...because clearly these drugs aren't being used for recreation, at least, not that we can tell," Malcolm finished saying as Gil tuned back into the conversation - and conversation was a generous way to put it, since Malcolm had been the only one talking for the last ten minutes. "Drugs like heroin and meth often have these same ends, with death, but at least they start out good."

Gil gave Malcolm a quick, pointed look. "Do I need to be concerned?" he asked, turning back to the road in front of him. He and Malcolm were following up a lead out into the boonies. It was a long drive, but Gil enjoyed the time with just his kid. He loved his whole team endlessly, but he missed having the one-on-one time with Malcolm that had been less frequent as the kid had gotten older, and therefore, busier.

"No," Malcolm said around a smile and a shake of his head. "You know I'd never do anything like that. I'm just saying that so far, there's no signs of pleasure before the pain with these drugs. Which means that they're likely not being manufactured to be sold to a wide market. It's much more likely that they would be sold to criminal organizations for use in torture, or at least some form of enhanced interrogation."

"You could at least try to sound disturbed by that," Gil said.

"It's just a fact, Gil," Malcolm insisted. Gil couldn't help but smile. His kid had never been normal, but that only endeared him to Gil even more. It was such a shame that other people could never quite seem to see the same thing in Malcolm that Gil did, that indefinable quality that made him the center of Gil's universe. Perhaps, if more people saw that, then they would be less likely to treat the kid so cruelly, as he was often treated. Gil's heart broke for the kid. He was kind and pure and so incredibly friendly and loving. People just didn't give the kid a chance.

"I know, I know," Gil said around a smile as they pulled up to the old farmhouse at which their lead had led them. Their first victim had last been spotted in that general area, and that farmhouse held the only people around for miles, outside of people on the hiking trails that littered the countryside. It wasn't much of a lead, but it was something, and they were running dry. Even the smallest leads had to be run down. Gil would've sent Dani and JT to do it, since it didn't require their profiler, and it definitely wasn't enough of a lead to require a lieutenant, but, truly, he missed his kid. Gil missed spending time with Malcolm doing pointless things, like going to baseball games or to the zoo or to museums or even just hanging out at Gil's house or getting food together. Malcolm was the closest thing that Gil was ever going to have to a child of his own, and he missed spending quality time with his son. So, with nothing else to do, Gil volunteered to go, and to take Malcolm with him. If nothing else, it got them both out of the precinct for a while, and it got Gil a couple of hours to spend with Malcolm in the car. That alone was enough to make the whole thing worth it to Gil. No one could ever know how much time they had left with their loved ones. Gil would take every single moment that he could. Those moments with just him and his kid were priceless. If the world was ending, Malcolm was the one he wanted to be with, to hold in those final moments. He loved Dani and JT and Edrisa and even Jessica and Ainsley to bits, but none of them were his son, the one he'd raised as his own. Without Jackie, Malcolm was everything to him, plain and simple.

Sometimes, it scared Gil to think about how far he would go to protect Malcolm, to keep him safe. He'd do things he'd sent people to Rikers for. He'd do the worst things imaginable if it meant that his kid was safe. It was selfish, and Gil knew it, but if it came down to Malcolm or the world, Gil would pick Malcolm every single time. That kid was his entire world.

The driveway of the farmhouse was pretty long, even for a countryside home. It had to be a bitch to shovel in the winter. The trees lining the curves kept the property secluded from the dirt road, and block all sightlines from the house. The only reason that Gil and Malcolm were there at all was a last ditch effort that maybe the brothers living there had seen something sketchy on their property recently. It was a long shot, but it was all they had.

Gil put the car in park and stepped out, Malcolm mirroring his motions. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Malcolm buttoning his suit jacket as he walked, ever the gentleman. Gil didn't bother with his own sport coat as they made their way up the steps to the wrap-around porch. It was a beautiful farmhouse, clearly very old, but immaculately kept.

Gil rang the doorbell before stepping back slightly, still in front of Malcolm. His badge and gun were on full display, and not for the first time, Gil wished that Malcolm would be allowed to carry on the job. It just would've made him feel better when the kid ran off without backup if he knew that he was packing heat. Sure, Malcolm was a great fighter, but he was smaller than almost all of his opponents, and a gun was a great equalizer.

The door swung open with a creak. "Can I help you?" the man asked. It was Milton Farlow, the slimmer of the fraternal twins. His brother Edward was the hulking muscle mass. The twins were about JT's age, maybe a year or so older. Milton looked between Gil and Malcolm, and the car.

"Yes, I'm Lieutenant Gil Arroyo, this is Consultant Malcolm Bright. We're NYPD. Can we speak with you and your brother?" Gil politely asked. Malcolm remained obediently silent behind him.

Milton looked between them again. "Okay," he finally said, before opening the door wider and standing aside.

Gil walked in, careful to keep Malcolm behind him. He couldn't explain it, but something just felt off. Maybe he was just too paranoid about something happening to his kid, or maybe it was his intuition from so many years on the job, but Gil just had a feeling that something wasn't quite right. He glanced over at Malcolm, who was looking all around the room, his gaze landing on little things before flitting to the next, analyzing everything he saw.

"I'll go get my brother," Milton said. "I'll be back in a moment." He turned a corner, and Gil heard the sound of someone walking down the stairs a moment later. He was going into the basement.

"What are you thinkin'?" he asked Malcolm, turning to the kid. Malcolm looked at him hesitantly.

"Something's up," he said. "I can't say what, but something isn't right."

"My thoughts exactly," Gil quietly replied. "Stay behind me, and follow my orders." Malcolm looked at him incredulously for a moment before finally nodding. Gil knew the kid would probably disregard his own agreement, but it made Gil feel just a little bit better that he'd technically agreed to do what Gil told him, so, theoretically, if Gil told him to run, he'd run. Gil almost shook his head. There was no way the kid was ever going to do that.

Gil kept his hand held close to his gun as he heard movement from the stairwell. A moment later, the door popped open once again, and Milton appeared before them.

"Ed will up in a minute, he's just finishing up some things," Milton said. "Can I get you guys something? Water, tea, coffee?"

"No thank you," Gil answered for them, but Milton just turned towards Malcolm, clearly expecting an answer from him as well.

"I'm good, but thanks," Malcolm echoed. It was against police policy for officers to accept things like that from civilians, for the very reason that they could be poisoned. Even if that hadn't become standard policy, Gil had the bad experience to turn him away from ever accepting something like that from a civilian ever again.

Ed walked further into the farmhouse, thereby prompting Gil and Malcolm to follow him. "Are you sure?" he asked, continuing to walk into the kitchen. "We've got an espresso maker."

"We're sure," Gil called out after him. He was focused on Milton's movements, so focused, in fact, that he missed the approach of Edward behind him, and didn't have time to draw his gun before Malcolm was wrapped in the much larger man's arms, one arm around his chest, trapping his arms at his sides, and the other around his throat, squeezing just enough that Gil could hear slightly labored breathing.

"Put your gun on the ground," Edward ordered. "Do it right now, slowly, or I swear, I'll crush his trachea and leave him to suffocate." He emphasized his words with a tightening of his grip around Malcolm's neck. The kid's eyes went wide as he began to thrash in the man's hold, but he stilled as he was held even tighter.

"Let him go," Gil immediately responded. He slowly reached for his gun, and did as Edward said, even kicking it towards the man. "Let the kid go," he repeated. He could see the fear in Malcolm's eyes, and he hated it.

Edward looked back down at the squirming profiler in his grasp. "No," he said. "I don't think I will." He began strangling Malcolm in earnest, heedless to the choked off gasp or renewed struggle that Malcolm put up.

"No!" Gil shouted. He dove towards them, but was knocked to the side and to the ground. Milton was on top of him, holding his gun. Gil could still see his kid being strangled, and despite how proud of him he was for how hard he was fighting, he knew it would be fruitless. Edward had a good hundred pounds on him, and was over a full head taller. "Just let him go," Gil repeated. He didn't even care that he was pleading. "I'm the cop, I'm the one you want. He's just a profiler, a consultant, he doesn't even have a badge. Let him go, please," he begged, seeing Malcolm's struggles slow even further. The kid didn't have much time left until he was unconscious.

"I think we're gonna keep him," Milton said, still on top of Gil and still holding the gun to his head. "In fact, I think we're gonna keep both of you." Malcolm had stopped struggling, and Edward dropped him, letting him fall bonelessly to the floor. There were already angry red marks around his throat. Gil could only pray that his kid was still alive.

Milton twirled the gun in his hand and gripped it backwards. The last thing that Gil saw was the butt of the gun swinging towards him.

...

He was cold. That was the first thing that Malcolm was aware of when he woke up. He was cold, and he was lying uncomfortably on his back, against hard metal. Malcolm tried to turn onto his side, to conserve some warmth, but he was stopped by the iron grips around his wrists and ankles.

Malcolm jerked his head up and opened his eyes. His neck screamed at the sudden movement, but he needed to see what was going on. He was strapped down to a metal table, wearing only his boxers. The room was mostly white, and looked like a science lab or some sort of medical facility. But where was Gil? Malcolm couldn't see all the way around him, so he had no way of knowing what was behind him.

"G-Gil?" he hesitantly called out. He blamed his stutter on the fire in his throat, and on the chill of the room on his bare skin, not on his fear.

"Kid? You're awake, are you okay?" he heard Gil from somewhere behind him. There was a rustling noise, and the drag of a chain.

"Yeah, I'm just co-cold," he stuttered. Had they taken Gil's clothes too? What did they want? And why was it so cold?

"I'm so sorry, kid," Gil said. "This is my fault, I shouldn't've-," he broke off at the sound of a lock being opening, and the door following.

"Lovely to see you both awake," came the voice of Milton Farlow. Malcolm couldn't see him yet. "I must apologize for the brutality of our methods, but you didn't want anything to drink, so..." he trailed off, leaving Malcolm to assume that their drinks, had they accepted them, would have been drugged.

"Let him go," Gil repeated. "You can do whatever you want to me, but please, just let the kid go."

"Not gonna happen, so quit asking," Milton fired back. "As of right now, we're planning on letting the two of you stay together while we're not busy with you, but if you keep that up, detective, we might have to rethink that."

"He's a lieutenant," Malcolm said, ignoring the way that his throat burned to instead be proud of his voice for not shaking.

Milton finally came into Malcolm's field of view and shook his head disapprovingly. "I don't care. He's test subject number six now, and you, kiddo, are test subject number five. Once we're done with you, we'll move on to him. When we're done with him, we'll move onto someone else. And on and on until we get this just right. You know, it took Edison over one hundred tries before he finally invented a working lightbulb. Hopefully it won't take us quite so long to get the serum right," he said around a chuckle.

"At least that answers the questions we had," Malcolm forced out, trying to remain calm. Panicking wasn't going to help. Dani and JT would figure out where they were soon enough, assuming they hadn't been brought to a secondary location. They were going to be just fine.

"And you, kiddo, are going to help to answer some of our questions," Milton continued. The door opened and closed again. It had to be Edward.

"Ready to start?" another, deeper voice asked. That was definitely Edward. Malcolm turned his head as much as he could, and saw the brothers fiddling with medical equipment. He couldn't stop himself from squirming in the restraints.

"Oh, I think so," Milton replied. He turned to Malcolm with a sickly sweet smile. He began to rub down the crook of Malcolm's elbow with rubbing alcohol, causing him to begin shivering again in earnest.

"Don't you touch him!" Gil shouted from behind him. Malcolm could hear a chain rattling and pulling taut, most likely from Gil pulling against it in a futile effort to try to get to him.

Malcolm couldn't stop himself from flinching when the needle was inserted into his arm. It led to an IV, filled with something that Malcolm was pretty sure he didn't want anywhere near him.

"What is this?" Malcolm asked. His hand was shaking. He watched as the liquid made its way down the tube and into his body. It burned immediately. Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip in an effort to keep from whimpering.

"Let him go!" Gil shouted again. Malcolm could faintly hear some sort of banging behind him, but he was too focused on breathing through the pain to think about what it was. He tried to take even, deep breaths, but it didn't help. His arm still burned, the liquid going into his bloodstream slowly bringing that pain throughout his body.

"What is this?" he asked again, this time with his voice shaking in pain.

"Just the first step of a little something we're working on," Milton answered him. "How does it feel, on a scale from one to ten?"

Malcolm refused to answer. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and put all of his attention towards not crying. It hurt so much, so much more than any pain that Malcolm had felt in a long time. But he didn't want to give the Farlows the satisfaction of knowing that he was in agony, and he didn't want Gil to have to know that either.

"That wasn't rhetorical," Edward growled. Malcolm felt the press of someone's thumb at the site of the IV less than a second before that thumb was pressed down. He couldn't stop himself from shrieking in pain and making another useless attempt to pull away.

"Stop! Leave him alone!"

"Would you quit it already, cop?" Edward groaned. "One more word out of you, and not only will we make this worse than we have to for the kid, but we'll find some duct tape for you to keep you quiet. Understood?" A few moments passed by, and Gil remained silent. "Good," Edward finished, finally pulling his thumb off the IV. "Now answer the question, boy, and be honest. How does it feel, on a scale from one to ten?" Malcolm could feel the man's hot breath on his face, but he still kept silent, his eyes squeezed shut. They couldn't know there were tears in his eyes, they just couldn't. A sudden grip on his neck, right where Edward had strangled him before, had his eyes shooting open.

"Seven," he cried out, tears now slipping down into his hairline. It was only his pride that was attempting to save, but hopefully they would believe that it was only a seven, and not how bad it actually was.

"Good," Milton answered him with a smile. Edward released his grip on Malcolm's throat. "Was that so bad?" The pain kept coursing through him, but Malcolm chanced a glance up at the IV bag. It was almost empty. Whatever they were pumping into him, they were almost out. "Now, we're not sadistic, so we'll let you have a break, and we'll even let you be with your cop friend."

Malcolm could only hope the pain would lessen once the IV was taken out. Edward gripped his already immobilized arm, eliciting another whimper from him, while Milton pulled out the IV, none too gently. The pain didn't abate. Malcolm's entire body still felt like it was sizzling, slowly burning from the inside out. He could faintly feel the tight metal restraints being released from his wrists and ankles, but the pain was too strong for him to make a move to fight or escape. Malcolm flinched against the cold hands touching his bare skin as he was dragged off the table. He couldn't stop his whimper of pain as he hit the ground on unstable legs.

"There we go," Milton said. As much as he hated it, Malcolm allowed himself to be supported by the man. If he didn't, he would fall flat on his face. It took all of his strength just to hold his head up and get a look at the rest of his surroundings. The rest of the room was the same medical looking white color, except there were bars sectioning off a portion of the room. It was about ten feet long and five feet wide. Gil was in there, with one of his ankles chained to the wall. There was another shackle a few feet away, and Malcolm knew that his ankle would be in it soon. As much as he wanted to get to Gil, he really didn't want to be put in what was essentially a jail cell, chained down, just like he had been with Watkins, except worse because he wasn't going to be able to get out like he did then and he was going to be trapped and he couldn't breathe-.

Malcolm fighting weakly against Milton, pressing back and away from the cell, muttering protests under his breath. All he could see was that chain, his vision tunneled down to nothing but the thick metal shackle that was going to be locked around his ankle. It took Milton tossing Malcolm against the wall for him to stop fighting.

"You see this?" Edward asked. Malcolm pulled his eyes away from Milton and the hands that had once again found their way to his neck - although not strangling him, just holding him in place this time - and looked towards Edward, who had Gil's gun in his hand, and had it aimed straight at Gil's head. "Quit struggling," Edward ordered. "If you don't, I blow your old man's brains out." He turned to Gil. "If you move even an inch, I blow the kid's brains out. Got that?" Out of the corner of his eye, Malcolm could see Gil give the man a terse nod.

Finally Milton pulled Malcolm away from the wall and dragged him further towards the cell. This time, Malcolm didn't struggle. He let Milton support him, but he couldn't stop shaking as he was tossed to the floor of the cell, nor could he stop his cry of pain as he hit the concrete floor. Malcolm immediately tried to crawl towards Gil, but was once again stopped by Edward's grip on his ankle. The man dragged him to the other side of the cell, and Malcolm couldn't stop him as he fastened the shackle around his ankle. The cell door was closed behind him, trapping Malcolm and Gil there.

"We'll give you a few hours of respite, then it's on to the next test," Milton said. Edward smiled down at them approvingly, then turned to follow his twin out of the room. The door slammed closed behind them, locking just as loudly.

"Oh, kid," Gil finally said. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He shrugged out of his sports coat and moved towards Malcolm, but he couldn't make it all the way over. "I'm gonna need you to move over here a bit, okay? Just crawl towards me as much as you can."

Malcolm nodded as tears once again filled his eyes. He was in so much pain, and he was so scared. With another whimper, he got his hands and knees under him and crawled towards Gil. He was too weak to stand on his own. Even crawling, he collapsed the moment he got close enough for Gil to catch him. He landed in Gil's arms, and it was all he could do not to completely fall apart.

Breathing through the unending pain, Malcolm relaxed as Gil laid his sports coat over his mostly bare body. Malcolm was still shivering, both with pain and the cold. But he was with Gil now. He was going to be okay, at least for a little while.

"What can I do?" Gil asked him. "Just tell me what to do to help." He pulled Malcolm a little bit further into his lap, and began gently running his fingers through Malcolm's hair.

"I'm fine," Malcolm whispered. It didn't even sound true to him, but he had to at least attempt to put up a front of feeling fine. He melted into Gil's touch, letting the calming ministrations comfort him through the pain that still sizzled throughout his body, like embers of a fire.

"No, you're not, kid," Gil said, his voice breaking. "I don't even know what they gave you. I need to get us out of here."

"How?" Malcolm asked. There were far too many steps between them and freedom for Malcolm to see getting out as even a distant possibility, much less something they could actually accomplish. He curled up as much as he could, getting himself more fully covered by Gil's jacket and taking more of the man's body heat.

"I don't know," Gil admitted. "Dani and JT are gonna find out where we are eventually, and then we're gonna get you to a hospital. That part is non-negotiable, kid. We have no idea what they've been dosing you with, you need a hospital as soon as possible. I'm not gonna see you end up like the- like the bodies we found. That's not gonna be you, I won't let it." Gil held him tighter, and Malcolm would've been lying if he said it didn't help. He was still in pain, but Gil helped. Gil always helped. "I'm gonna do everything I can to stop them from hurting you again."

Malcolm started shaking even more just at the thought of undergoing that torture again. He couldn't do it. It hurt so much and it still hurt and he couldn't take something else. He hated being strapped down to that table, nearly naked, unable to stop anything that they did to him. The Farlows could do whatever they wanted to him, and he would be powerless to stop them, and he hated it. Malcolm held onto Gil tighter as his tears started to fall faster. There wasn't anything that Gil was going to be able to do to save him either.

"No, you can't," Malcolm cried. He squeezed his eyes shut and just kept holding on to Gil. "If you try, they'll kill you. I don't know how much more of this I can take, but I know I can't take you dying, especially not for me."

"Hey, kiddo, look at me," Gil gently requested. Slowly, Malcolm opened his eyes and looked up at Gil, blinking his tears away. "I'm not gonna let that happen, okay? I'm gonna get us both out of here, even if that just means I help us both to hold on until Dani and JT get here. At most, in a couple of hours, they're gonna realize that something is wrong, and when we don't pick up, they're gonna come looking for us. They'll come here, and even if the Farlows moved our car and hid it, Dani and JT are good enough detectives to figure out that we're here anyway. It's gonna be okay."

"What if we're at a second location?" Malcolm asked. That was the major question he kept wrestling with. Everything that Gil said was true, but if they had been brought to a second location, then it likely wouldn't even matter. Dani and JT wouldn't be able to find their location until it was too late.

"Let's not worry about that right now," Gil calmly replied, though Malcolm could feel his fingers stutter in his hair. "Just try to get some rest, kid. I'll be right here."

Malcolm didn't respond. He only nodded his head slightly from its position in Gil's lap. He curled up even more, making himself as small as possible. Gil adjusted his jacket to cover him even more, and Malcolm tried to focus on anything other than the burning sensation he still felt in is veins.

"You're gonna be alright," Gil practically whispered. "I'm right here." He continued his calming ministrations with one hand, and used the other to rub Malcolm's back. As terrified and hurting as Malcolm was, in Gil's arms, the peace and safety he felt were enough to slowly lull him to into a calm, dreamless sleep.

...

Gil had no idea what he was supposed to do. No matter what he said, he knew that there was no way he could stop those men from taking his kid and experimenting on him more. When they came back, as Gil knew they would, there would be nothing that Gil could do to keep Malcolm in his arms and make them leave the kid alone. Gil was lying to Malcolm by telling him it would be alright, but what was he supposed to tell him? His kid was in agony. He couldn't just sit there and do nothing to try to help him.

The only thing Gil could think to do was to try again to convince the Farlows to experiment on him instead, but he already knew it wouldn't work. They'd been pretty clear that their plan was to use Malcolm until he was dead, then use Gil to further improve whatever serums they were working on. There was no reason for them to switch that up, and there was nothing that Gil could either offer them or do to them to force them. Gil was just as helpless as Malcolm. All he could do was pray that they hadn't been moved, and that Dani and JT would find them sooner rather than later. There was no way to know how long Malcolm had until whatever they were doing killed him.

Gil took in a deep breath at the thought of losing Malcolm. He couldn't. The kid was his whole world, he just couldn't lose him. Gil continued carding his fingers through Malcolm's soft hair, and tried to calm himself. Thinking about the worst case scenarios wouldn't help. He needed to be strong for his kid.

Gil didn't know how long he sat there, with Malcolm asleep in his lap. He didn't move his legs at all, lest he wake the kid up. They had no way of knowing what would be done to Malcolm next, so the kid needed as much rest as possible in order to keep his strength up. Gil was just glad that the kid was sleeping soundly. His night terrors were always awful, but at least the kid was being spared them.

When he heard the telltale sound of the door unlocking, he gathered Malcolm up in his arms even more, rousing the kid from his sleep. Maybe he couldn't stop them from taking the kid again, but he could sure as hell make it difficult for them.

"What..." Malcolm muttered as he woke, his grip on Gil tightening for a moment as he became aware of his surroundings once again. As Malcolm began to scramble up, still using Gil's jacket to cover himself, Gil stood and put himself as in front of the kid as he could. Their chains wouldn't allow Gil to be completely in front of him to protect him, but he did what he could.

Milton and Edward walked in again with smiles on their faces. Gil only glared at them. He pretended not to notice Malcolm's hand beginning to shake.

"How do you feel, on a scale from one to ten?" Milton asked again. "And know what happens if you refuse to answer honestly."

After a moment, Malcolm replied, through clenched teeth, "three." To Gil, that meant at least five. When the kid had said seven earlier, he had definitely been at a nine, and that absolutely broke Gil's heart. Malcolm was too proud to admit where he truly was, but the Farlows had seemed to believe him well enough, or at least not care enough to point out his lie. At least the couple hours of respite they had gotten, along with the sleep, had seemed to help quite a bit.

"Wonderful," Milton said. "Now I think you know it's time for the next serum."

"Use me," Gil immediately said. He kept his hand held out protectively in front of Malcolm. "He's already been through enough, just use me instead. Let the kid go." Gil doubted the men would be swayed, but he had to at least try.

"No can do," Milton replied with a shrug, just as Gil feared he would. "That's not how these tests work."

Edward stepped forward and unlocked their cell. Gil and Malcolm couldn't move any closer together. Their chains were pulled taut, and Gil was as stretched as he could to be in front of his kid. The cell door swung open, but it was too far away for either one of them to even attempt to tackle their captors. Milton pulled a gun from underneath his lab coat.

"Step aside, and let us at the kid, or I'll kill you," he said, his voice monotone. "We can always find another test subject to replace you, but we'd prefer to finish what we've started with the kid."

Gil heard a soft whimper behind him, paired with a squeeze of a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," Malcolm said, his voice shaking. He moved away from Gil, away from the only protection he had.

"Kid, no-."

"I'm not gonna let them kill you," Malcolm interrupted, but Gil could see the fear in his eyes. He kept the jacket wrapped around him as he shivered with the cold.

"See? Wasn't that easy?" Milton chuckled, gun still trained on Gil.

Edward stepped into the cell and moved straight for Malcolm, who reflexively stepped back and away. The mountain of a man immediately grabbed the kid by the throat and thrust him up against the wall again.

"Let him go!" Gil shouted, straining against the chain separating him from his kid.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Malcolm choked out.

"Good," Edward growled before releasing his grip. Malcolm stood stock still - aside from the way his whole body was shaking - as Edward knelt down and undid the shackle around his ankle. Once the shackle was lying on the floor, Edward stood and ripped the jacket from around Malcolm, and tossed it back over to Gil.

"Oh, come on," Gil groaned. "What use is him being freezing to your experiments?" Even fully clothed, Gil was cold. It was not a comfortable room by any means.

"Shut up, cop," Milton complained. "You know what happens to the kid if you annoy us too much."

Gil stared daggers at the man, only turning his gaze when he heard his kid whimper again. Edward had a firm grip on Malcolm's bare arm and was roughly dragging him out of the cell and back over to the cursed table. Just like anyone else would, Malcolm hesitated as they got closer to it, pulling back slightly. Edward yanked him forward in response, uncaring to the way that Malcolm cried out at the pull on his shoulder. It took all of Gil's willpower to remain quiet as his kid was wrangled onto that table and strapped down by the cold metal restraints. Dani and JT needed to hurry up before the mad scientists killed his kid.

"Remember this?" Milton asked in a sing-song tone as he wheeled the IV pole back to Malcolm.

"Not again," Malcolm muttered, his voice so small that Gil was fairly certain he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"Oh, don't worry," Milton replied, far too cheerily. "This is something totally different. Well, you'll probably dislike it just as much, but it's an entirely different drug that a different set of clients want tested. We're very busy men." He chuckled as he went about securing a different bag to the pole and hooking it all up. When Milton started swabbing Malcolm's inner elbow with rubbing alcohol again, Gil couldn't take it anymore.

"Wouldn't it be better to use a subject that doesn't already have drugs in his veins?" he asked them in a last ditch effort to get them to not hurt and eventually murder his kid.

Edward barely glanced over at him. "What he had earlier won't interact," he said with a wave of his hand.

"It's not just what he had earlier!" Gil rushed out as Milton prepared to stick Malcolm again. This time, Milton stopped what he was doing, and looked over at him.

"Gil, no," Malcolm whimpered. What he was saying no about, Gil wasn't sure, but he couldn't dwell on it. It didn't matter. If it saved Malcolm, nothing mattered.

"The kid's on so many meds, it would really just be better for you to use me. I'm not on anything," Gil insisted. He saw Malcolm turn his head away from the two men, as if in shame. Gil could only hope it wasn't. The kid had to know this was for the best. Of course he hated it when people found out how many medications he took on a daily basis, but that had to be better than undergoing illegal human experimentation for the second time. "I'm clean, the kid isn't."

Milton laughed, and shook his head. Gil's heart fell to his stomach. The man didn't care.

"Could be ibuprofen, could be freakin' meth. It doesn't make a difference," Milton said with a shrug. "Nice try though." He and Edward exchanged another laugh, then he turned all of his attention back to Malcolm once again. "Crying already?" Milton mocked.

"Leave him alone!" Gil shouted again. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Gil had exposed something the kid hated about himself in an attempt to save him, and it hadn't even worked. Malcolm had already been subjected to one mystery drug that had left him in agony, and now he was about to be subjected to another. He had every right to cry.

"You know what happens if you say one more word," Edward threatened, turning away from his experiment and back towards Gil. "To see how effective this drug is, the kid doesn't need working bones. Remember that next time you wanna say something."

Gil could've screamed in frustration if he knew it wouldn't make things worse. His kid was there, fifteen feet away from him, being tortured by mad scientists, and there was nothing that Gil could do about it. He wasn't even allowed to vent his frustrations.

"Alright, kid," Milton finally said as he slipped the needle back into Malcolm's pale skin. "Let's see if it works this time, instead of just killing you." He laughed, but Gil felt tears welling up in his own eyes. He was going to be forced to watch his kid die, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. "Now please, let us know everything that you feel. Or don't feel," added with a dark chuckle that left Gil with a pit of dread pooling in his stomach. Whatever that meant, it was nothing good.

Gil could see the faint tremors wracking Malcolm's thin frame, and he couldn't do anything to stop them. Gil couldn't do freaking anything.

"Now all we have to do is wait," Edward said with a shrug. "This shouldn't take long."

"What do you feel?" Milton asked, his voice sickly sweet. Malcolm just groaned. Gil could see him clenching and unclenching his hands, pulling at his restraints. "I'm gonna need more than that as an answer, or would you rather I pump your old man full of the same thing and see how he feels?"

"It hurts," Malcolm immediately replied, his voice breaking. "My- my head."

"Good, good," Milton responded. "It shouldn't be long now."

Gil was silently seething. How dare they use him against the kid? Something like Malcolm's altruism was all too easy for the bad guys to use against him, and Gil hated it.

Malcolm's whimpers of pain, as quiet as they were, still echoed in the otherwise silent room. Gil strained against his own restraints, everything in him screaming at him to go to his kid and protect him, but he couldn't. When Malcolm started crying out in earnest, Gil grabbed onto his chain and yanked at it again and again, hoping to pull it free. He couldn't just sit there and do nothing.

"Make it stop," Malcolm cried out. "Please, just make it stop."

Gil began to dig at the screws connecting his chain to the wall, but only succeeded in tearing up his fingernails.

"Gil, Gil, please," Malcolm pleaded, tearing Gil's heart in two. He was thrashing against his restraints as he began to hyperventilate.

"Malcolm, I'm right here, you're gonna be okay, I'm right here," Gil lied as tears began to fall down his own face. This time, the Farlows said nothing at his words. They just smiled down at their victim.

"No, no, no no no, I can't- I can't-." Abruptly, Malcolm's thrashing halted, and his cries stopped. He was limp on the table. Gil's breath caught in his throat. The worst immediately came to mind.

"Took a bit longer than the others," Milton said, uncaring to the way that Gil's son was potentially lying dead on that table.

"If you've killed him, I swear, if you've killed him, I will kill you. I will kill you both!" Gil screamed at them, thrashing against the shackle that kept him away from his kid.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Milton groaned, pressing his fingers to Malcolm's pulse point in his neck. "He's not dead, at least not yet. Believe it or not, but we're not trying to kill anybody. Of course, we probably don't have it perfected yet to the point where the subject survives, but eventually we will. Who knows, maybe you'll be the first one to live, detective." Milton just shrugged, uncaring, as Edward began to unfasten the restraints that kept Malcolm trapped on the table.

Edward pulled Malcolm off the table none too gently, letting his legs hit the floor with a thud. He then proceeded to drag him across the floor, despite how easy it would've been for him to carry the kid. Milton moved to the cell and unlocked it, allowing Edward to drag Malcolm inside and drop him unceremoniously to the ground. Gil uselessly pulled at his restraints once again, but he was too far away to get to either Malcolm or their captors. Despite his state of unconsciousness, Edward still put the shackle around his ankle before leaving the cell and locking the door behind him.

"We'll be back to check his progress," Milton said, but Gil was barely paying attention.

Gil didn't pay attention to anything but his kid once the Farlows left. He was too far away from Malcolm to be able to reach him, but he could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. He really was alive. Gil breathed out a sigh of relief, and relaxed against the wall. But the kid had to be cold, even in his unconsciousness. As well as he could, Gil grabbed his jacket, and tossed it over Malcolm. It landed awkwardly, and probably wasn't doing much, but it was all Gil could do. He couldn't reach him, and he couldn't break out of the shackle. All he could do was wait, and hope that Dani and JT hurried up.

There was no clock on the walls, and it had to be that day that Gil's watch battery had died, so he had no way of knowing how many hours passed before Malcolm finally started to stir once again. Gil perked up immediately when he heard the small groans coming from his kid. He'd spent the last however many hours it had been staring at Malcolm, watching each rise and fall of his chest, as if the kid would stop breathing the moment he looked away.

"Hey, kiddo," he said as Malcolm's eyes opened, but the kid didn't respond.

Malcolm's eyes went wide, dashing around, and his breathing picked up exponentially, as if he were panicking.

"Hey, hey, I'm right here," Gil said. He ducked his head in an attempt to catch Malcolm's gaze, but it didn't work.

"I can't- I can't-," Malcolm said, almost in a whisper. His hand flew to his throat, then to his mouth, then to his ears, and finally to his eyes as they filled with tears.

"Can't what?" Gil asked as Malcolm continued to breathe faster and faster. "Kid, you gotta talk to me, you gotta tell me what's going on?" He tried to move closer to him, but he couldn't. "Malcolm!" he shouted, trying to get a response, but the kid didn't make any motion that he had even heard Gil at all.

Wait.

What if he couldn't hear Gil? Malcolm kept looking around wildly, his eyes never landing on anything, as he continued to cry. What if he couldn't see him either? What if those bastards had somehow stolen his sight and hearing?

"Malcolm, kid, please tell me you can see me, that you can hear me?" he begged, but Malcolm only continued to cry and shake. Gil's eyes filled with tears, seeing his kid so unresponsive and terrified.

Malcolm curled up on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. His ankles touched together, and he flinched, seemingly noticing the shackle on his ankle for the first time. As he wrapped a hand around it, his hand brushed against the sports coat that had fallen off him when he first woke up. Malcolm took some time to feel it, running it through his fingers with a look a concentration on his tear stained face. The focus and concentration he gave the task seemed to bring him some better calm. His breathing slowed back down, and his tears weren't coming quite as quickly either.

"Yeah, kid, that's my jacket," Gil urged, despite knowing that Malcolm couldn't hear him.

"Gil," Malcolm whispered as he clutched the coat closer to him. He wrapped it around his shivering shoulders, then began to reach out his hands, like an infant would reach out for its parent.

"Yes, Malcolm, I'm right here," Gil pleaded, trying to stretch himself even further towards his kid. Slowly, oh so slowly, Malcolm began to move towards him, his eyes still full of fear and tears. Shaking, he moved closer and closer, until finally, his outstretched fingers touched Gil's.

Malcolm gasped and reeled back, eyes wide.

"No, it's okay, it's just me," Gil said, purely for his own benefit. He couldn't keep himself from trying to talk to the kid, even though he knew that Malcolm couldn't hear him or respond. "It's alright," he whispered.

Slowly, Malcolm began to move closer again, this time not recoiling when he made contact with Gil. He got even closer, although he shook more and more the closer he got, his breathing speeding up once again in his fear as he allowed the mystery hand to touch his own. For all Malcolm knew, Gil was one of the Farlows, and this was just another form of torture. But Gil's kid was brave, and he kept getting closer despite the fear that Gil knew was coursing through his veins.

Once he got close enough, Gil gently took Malcolm's hand in his own, trying not to reflexively grab on tight when the kid pulled away at first. But then, Malcolm let Gil hold his hand, and despite how hard his hand was shaking, he allowed Gil to slowly bring that hand up to Gil's beard. Gil made sure that Malcolm felt his goatee, and the collar of his turtleneck, the two things that he knew Malcolm could never mistake for anything but him.

"Gil?" Malcolm asked, his voice breaking.

"Yeah, kiddo, it's me," he replied, his own eyes filling with tears once again. Slowly, he began to pull Malcolm forward, into his arms. Malcolm collapsed, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, into Gil's lap, sobbing in earnest once again. Gil began to card his fingers through the kid's hair, just like he had earlier - just like he would forever, if the kid needed it. "I'm right here," he whispered.

Gil didn't bother to hide his own tears. Malcolm couldn't hear or see him crying, so it didn't matter. Those bastards had made his son blind and deaf. There had to be a way to fix it. There had to be an antidote, or a timeline for the drugs to wear off, or something. If it was permanent, it would destroy Malcolm. Of course, if there were anyone who could successfully learn how to navigate life that way at age thirty, Malcolm could, but Gil didn't want him to have to. If what the Farlows had done was irreparable, then there wasn't anywhere that they could hide from Gil. He would end them for what they'd done.

But, for the time being, none of that mattered. All Gil could do what try to be there for his kid in that moment. Malcolm was mostly in his lap, his sobs slowing as he exhausted himself. But Gil could tell that he wasn't falling asleep. In his mostly naked state, Gil could see almost every muscle in Malcolm's body, and they were all rigid with tension. In an attempt to ease it, Gil began to massage Malcolm's back with his other hand - the one not carding fingers through his hair. He would do everything he could to try to help the kid to relax. There wasn't anything that either one of them could do. They could only wait.

Gil cringed as he heard the lock to the door come undone. The Farlows were back, and that was never a good sign. He tried keep his motions calming and relaxed. It was best to keep Malcolm calm for as long as possible.

"I take it it worked?" Milton asked as he strolled into the room, Edward on his heels. He looked pointedly down at Malcolm, who was still silently crying in Gil's lap, staring blankly forward.

"Fix this," Gil growled through clenched teeth. He continued carding his fingers through Malcolm's hair, keeping him calm.

Milton shrugged. "Theoretically, it'll fade on its own. Or his organs will shut down. It'll be one or the other, but he's probably not lucky enough to be the first to survive. And we won't know unless we run some tests, take a look at his brainwaves and heart function and see where this will be heading."

Edward stepped forward and unlocked the cell door.

"Don't you touch him," Gil growled. This time, he couldn't stop himself from tightening his grip on his kid. Malcolm noticed, going rigid in his hold as his breath hitched. Edward stepped into the cell, and Gil wrapped his arms around Malcolm, holding him as close as he could. Malcolm immediately return the hold, being able to tell that something was wrong. His whimpers and quick breaths broke Gil's heart.

Edward first grabbed the sports coat and tore it off Malcolm, who gasped at the sudden touch and feel of the cold air on his back. He then grabbed Malcolm and yanked him away from Gil, the way each of them were contorted to stay in close contact with each other making it easy to break their grips.

"Leave him alone!" Gil shouted, straining against the shackle that kept him away from his kid. Malcolm was kicking and flailing and crying and Gil couldn't do anything to help him. "He doesn't know what's going on, just leave him alone!"

Instead, Edward growled at the kid and thrust him against the wall again, holding him by the bruises on his throat. Malcolm ceased his movements immediately, holding his breath. Finally, Edward reached down and unlocked the shackle around Malcolm's ankle. Once the shackle was gone, he gripped Malcom's bicep with one hand, and kept the other around his neck, and began to drag him out of the cell.

"No, please," Malcolm whimpered. "Gil!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the otherwise silent room. "Gil! Please, please no." His voiced quickly fell back to a whisper, as he began to cry again. Edward wrangled him up onto the table, and Milton began to restrain him once again. Malcolm kept fighting against them, whimpering protests and crying out for Gil.

"Why can't you just leave him alone?" Gil asked, his own voice breaking. He'd never seen his kid more terrified in his life, and there was absolutely nothing that he could to help him.

"Our clients expect certain results within a certain timeframe," Milton said with a shrug. "We have to provide." He began to attach electrodes to Malcolm's head, and it was Gil's only solace that they seemed to only want to measure things, instead of cause the kid more pain.

But before Milton could do anything else, everyone in the room - even Malcolm, whose cries had turned silent as the fight left him - went silent at the faint yet telltale sound of a doorbell ringing. Edward whipped out a gun and pointed it at Malcolm before Gil could so much as shout for help.

"If you make a noise, your kid dies," he said. Milton glared, and quickly left the room, leaving Gil and Malcolm alone with Edward.

Gil strained to hear what was going on upstairs. In the silence, he could just barely make out a feminine voice, paired with a deep, husky one. It was Dani and JT, it had to be. But how was Gil supposed to get their attention without Edward shooting Malcolm? The man already had his finger on the trigger, which definitely was not proper gun safety, and had that gun trained on Malcolm's torso. The kid had a gun pointed at him, and he didn't even know it. Gil couldn't risk making that gun go off, but he also couldn't risk what could be their only chance at rescue. So what was he supposed to do?

The bang of a door being forced open sounded from upstairs.

"You can't do this!" Milton shouted.

"Because of the exigent circumstances, we have probable cause, so yes we can," he heard Dani fire back at the man.

"Gil! Bright!" JT shouted out. It took everything Gil had to stay quiet.

"You say one word, and the kid dies," Edward whispered. Malcolm was fidgeting in his restraints, the long duration without any contact or new pain likely putting him even more on edge, but Edward didn't pay him any attention. Instead, he walked around to the far side of the table, and put Malcolm between himself and the door, gun still trained on him.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs. "Open this door," Dani ordered.

"Not until I see a warrant, now let me go!" Milton shouted. Gil could hear some sort of scuffle going on, then a grunt.

"The cuffs stay on," JT growled. Gil couldn't help but smile. That was the least that Milton deserved for what he'd done to Malcolm. "This'll be a whole lot easier on you if you just tell us which key it is."

Gil heard more grumbling, then finally, the sound of the lock coming undone, and the massive door swinging open. Edward ducked, using Malcolm as a human shield. With one hand he grabbed Malcolm by the hair and yanked his head to the side, and shoved the barrel of the gun right into his exposed neck. The kid yelped in surprise and pain, and his breathing began to speed up again.

"Don't move any closer!" Edward shouted. Dani and JT still had their guns drawn, but they were mostly lowered. The two looked between Gil and Malcolm and Edward with a few sweeping glances, taking in the scene. Milton stood off to the side, hands cuffed behind him, blood coming from his nose.

"Bright, you okay?" JT called out.

"He can't hear you," Gil said, voice almost breaking again. "They've got him so drugged, he can't hear and he can't see, and they don't even know if he's gonna make it." He could see the shock in their eyes at his words, quickly followed by unadulterated fury.

Luckily, Edward didn't shoot the kid for Gil speaking that time, but he did contort Malcolm's abused neck even more, drawing another whimper from the kid. Gil could see his hand shaking.

"Let my brother go, and leave, or else I'll shoot the kid right now," he threatened.

"Okay, no need to do anything hasty," JT said. "I'm putting my gun away, and I'm gonna take the cuffs off your brother. How about you put your gun down too?" he asked, already slowly putting his gun back in the holster. JT took a few slow steps over to Milton, and unlocked the cuffs, just like he said he would.

"You can both make it out of here," Dani said. "Just give us the keys, and you both can leave. We won't follow you."

The Farlows looked between each other, seemingly considering it. Gil couldn't have cared less, as long as Malcolm was okay. He would give up anything and everything for his kid to be okay.

"That's the best option you have," JT insisted, moving back away from Milton and creeping closer to Edward. "Just put down the gun, give us the keys, and you and your brother can run out of here. We're not leaving our guys. You'd be able to get away."

Milton moved towards the stairs. "Come on, let's just go, it's better than prison," he said through clenched teeth. Finally, Edward nodded, and slowly stood up, releasing his grip on Malcolm's hair. The kid gasped at the sudden movement, his hand shaking with a vengeance.

"It's all on that key ring," Edward said, motioning towards the key ring that JT had tossed to the ground when they came in.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Milton and Edward made their way towards door, then dashed out of the room and up the stairs at once. Dani immediately dashed over to Malcolm, while JT grabbed the keys and ran over to Gil. Malcolm let out a cry of surprise and fear as Dani touched him.

"Wait, stop," Gil told her. She held back immediately, looking over at him with fear in her own eyes. "He has no idea what's going on. He's scared, and he's in pain, and he could be-," he broke off, unable to finish the terrible possibility. "He needs EMS."

"EMS is on its way, so is backup," JT said. "The Farlows aren't going anywhere. As soon as we saw the sloppy job they did trying to hide your car, we called for backup. They won't make it off their property before every cop in the county is here." He fiddled with the keys until he found the right one to open the cell, then did the same with the shackle on Gil's ankle. "What about you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Gil quickly dismissed. He'd taken one solid hit to the head, and that was it. Malcolm was his only concern.

The moment the chain was off his leg, Gil grabbed his discarded sports coat and dashed over to Malcolm, whose eyes were squeezed shut in a failed attempt to hide his tears.

"It's gonna be okay, kid," Gil muttered, despite knowing that Malcolm still couldn't hear him. Slowly, he brought the fabric of the coat over to Malcolm's hand. The kid jumped at first, then slowly began to feel the material between his fingers. After a moment, he latched onto it. Gil then carefully laid the coat over his torso, giving him a bit more privacy than just his boxers. Carefully, Gil began to pull the electrodes off the kid's head. He would let EMS do whatever they needed to, but there was no reason for the Farlows' equipment to be touching the kid any longer.

Gil unfastened the first of the restraints around Malcolm's wrists, and held Malcolm's shaking hand in his own. Just as he did before, Gil brought Malcolm's hand up to his goatee and the collar of his turtleneck, letting him feel that he was okay, he was safe.

"Gil?" Malcolm quietly called out. Gil squeezed his hand as Malcolm began to cry again, turning his head closer to him.

"Undo the other ones," Gil ordered JT and Dani who had been standing back respectfully. The immediately went to the other restraints and unfastened them. Carefully and slowly, making sure that Malcolm knew it was him, Gil helped the kid off the table, until he was on unsteady legs. He wrapped his arms around the kid, holding him close. He began carding his fingers through his kid's hair once again as he closed his own eyes to hide his own tears. Malcolm wrapped his arms around Gil, squeezing him so tight, as if he would disappear if he let go.

"How do we tell him that we're here? That he's safe?" Dani asked, her voice breaking.

"The same way I did," Gil replied. Slowly, as to not make Malcolm think that anything was wrong or that they were losing physical contact, Gil adjusted one arm until it was around Malcolm's waist, and maneuvered Malcolm's arm to be around Gil's shoulders. The kid seemed to get what was going on, and allowed it, still clutching onto Gil with one hand, while the other held the sports coat around himself. Gil moved his other hand to hold up the coat for him, worming his hand between Malcolm's and the coat, leaving Malcolm's other hand free. "Take his hand, gently," he told Dani, who quickly complied.

As he had before, Malcolm flinched at her touch and gave a small gasp, but at her gentle prodding, allowed her to take his hand in hers. Just as Gil had done, she carefully brought his hand up to her cheek, allowing him to feel the smooth skin that could only belong to a woman. She gently moved his hand into her curls, giving him that added assurance that it was her.

"Dani?" he quietly asked, a smile beginning to form on his face as he realized what was going on. Dani squeezed his hand with a smile of her own.

"I can't believe I'm doin' this," JT muttered, but gently took Malcolm's hand from Dani, and brought it up to his hairline, the sharp edges and fuzzy feel only belonging to one person.

"JT?" he asked.

"Yeah, bro, it's me," JT replied, but he didn't try to hide his own smile. Carefully, he put Malcolm's hand back on Gil's chest, where Malcolm quickly gripped the fabric of the turtleneck once again.

Malcolm turned his face into the crook of Gil's shoulder, and began to cry. He turned himself more fully away from everyone, and held onto Gil even tighter. Gil immediately wrapped his arms around his kid again. He would do whatever Malcolm needed.

"It's okay, you're gonna be okay," Gil said, hoping that Malcolm could feel the vibrations at least and draw comfort from it. "We're gonna figure this out, no matter what." He continued holding his kid, carding his fingers through Malcolm's hair once again. That always helped to calm him down.

"Is it, uhhh, is it permanent?" JT asked, looking anywhere but at the kid.

"They said it isn't supposed to be, but who knows," Gil answered, his own voice tight with emotion. "They also said they weren't expecting him to make it, but it seems like he's gonna be okay. He needs EMS."

"Let's get him upstairs. EMS should be here any second," Dani said.

Just as he had before, Gil once again maneuvered Malcolm so that the kid had an arm around Gil's shoulders, and Gil's arm was around his waist. Gil would lead him wherever he needed to go. Before they started to move, Gil wrote out on Malcolm's hand, 'EMS'. He had no idea if Malcolm got it or not, but he would do it again once they were upstairs and out of the farmhouse.

Gil took one small step forward, and Malcolm followed him. He took another step, and Malcolm did too. They built up a slow and steady rhythm as they exited the lab and got to the stairs. That was where Gil figured they would have problems. Gil slowed down to a stop in front of them.

"Dani, you stay in front, JT, you stay behind. Don't let him fall," Gil ordered. The detectives nodded immediately and got into position. Really, it would have been so much easier just to pick the kid up in his arms and carry him, but that wasn't fair to Malcolm. The kid needed to have some sort of agency after everything he'd been through, even if it made things more difficult. Gil was confident that if he truly felt that he couldn't do it, Malcolm would hold onto him and jump up in a way that made it clear what he was asking for. The kid hadn't been shy at all about doing that as a pre-teen - and even as young teen, if Gil were being honest - and Gil was sure that Malcolm remembered it just as well as he did. "Dani, put his hand on the rail," he asked.

"Of course," Dani responded, then, just as gently as she had before, she put her hand over Malcolm's, and gently took his hand away from its place clutching Gil's sweater, and placed it on the railing, making sure to move it around enough so that he knew exactly what it was. Malcolm's face was scrunched up in determination as Dani moved his hand around, then finally settled into a determined line as he nodded.

Gil took the first step up the stairs, and was sure to let his grip on Malcolm loosen in just the right way so that the kid could tell he had gone up, and not away. Slowly, Malcolm moved his bare foot forward, until he gently tapped the step. Just as slowly, he moved his foot up, then forward, feeling along the step the whole time. Gil let Malcolm set the pace, and soon enough, they were in another steady rhythm up the stairs.

Malcolm only faltered when they got to the top. Gil had slowed down in anticipation, and tightened his grip on Malcolm, but the kid didn't realize what was going on, and continued on the at the same rhythm. As his foot didn't hit where he had expected there to be another step, his hand fell off the end of the railing. Gil tightened his grip even more, and Dani reached forward and grabbed his hand, steadying him. A quick glance back proved that JT had his hands up, ready to catch the kid if he needed it. Malcolm let out a shuddering breath, then nodded, and stabilized himself with Gil on the level ground.

They continued on to the front door, which was wide open. Gil could hear sirens, but he didn't look anywhere but at his kid. He held onto him tighter in preparation for the steps down, and more or less picked Malcolm up for the brief second it took to take those two steps. The kid made a small noise of surprise, but Gil quickly calmed him with another squeeze of support.

Safe on the ground outside, Gil took another look at the landscape. Dani and JT's car was front and center, but through the trees, Gil could just make out the flashing lights of police cars at the end of the driveway. The Farlows had been apprehended before they even got off their own property. The flashing light of an ambulance was making its way up the long driveway, closer to them.

"Your car's out in the old barn," JT said, nodding towards the structure. "The one with the doors wide open." Gil looked over, and sure enough, there was his car, haphazardly stashed in the old barn. The Farlows hadn't bothered to close the barn doors to further obscure it from view.

Gil looked back towards the ambulance. They would have a blanket, which Malcolm sorely needed. The poor kid was shivering in the cold, Gil's jacket wrapped tightly around his otherwise nearly bare body. Gil pulled him closer into his arms, hoping to share any body heat that he could. The kid was going to be so scared of the EMTs. He would be poked and prodded, and he wouldn't know what was going on, and it was going to feel just like what the Farlows had done to him. That wasn't going to be easy. He needed to at least try to warn the kid again.

Once again, Gil spelled out 'EMS' on Malcolm's hand. He waited a beat, then did it again. Another beat, another spelling. Then, Gil tapped twice on his hand to let him know that he was done. The kid's brows were scrunched up again in concentration, but it didn't look like he understood what Gil was telling him, only that Gil was trying to tell him something. Gil spelled it out again, a little slower. Malcolm's eyes welled up with tears as he shook his head, still not understanding what those lines Gil was drawing meant. Gil just pulled Malcolm into a hug. That was okay. They would figure it out. The kid was going to be scared when it happened, but it wasn't worth the kid getting so frustrated with himself for not understanding that Gil was trying to spell something that he began to cry again. He settled for holding Malcolm protectively against him, and didn't move as the ambulance parked and the EMTs hopped out.

"Stay here," he told JT and Dani. "This is going to be bad, but I trust him to recognize your hands more than theirs if the need comes." The detectives nodded immediately. Gil didn't mentioned that he noticed Dani wiping away a single tear.

"What happened?" the lead EMT asked, looking Malcolm and Gil up and down.

"The kid's been drugged with at least two different things, no clue what they were," Gil said. "The first just hurt him a lot, the second took away his sight and hearing. There's an illegal lab in the basement of the house. Everyone who's been experimented on before Malcolm has died. He's also been strangled."

"Thank you, that helps. If he can tell who you are, then you are going to be essential in getting him onto the ambulance and beginning his treatment," the EMT said. Gil nodded.

"He's my kid, I just want to help him," he answered honestly.

"Let's start with a gurney." The EMT beckoned to his coworkers to bring the gurney forward. There was a blanket folded up at the foot of it. That would help.

Gil squeezed Malcolm again, then reached down and picked the kid up in his arms. Malcolm made a sound of surprise, but held on to Gil despite the way his breathing sped up. For a moment, Gil just held him, then carefully set him down on the gurney. The blanket was immediately pulled up and over his shivering legs. With one hand, Malcolm began to feel the fabric, but he kept his other hand clutched onto Gil. Gil rubbed soothing circles on his back for a moment, then carefully pushed Malcolm onto his back on the gurney. The soft blanket was pulled further over his body, and maybe Gil was seeing things, but it looked as if Malcolm were relaxing into the warmth it provided.

"I think he's gonna be okay," Gil said to Dani and JT. "I should be able to handle it now, but you should remind him that you're here, that you care," he said.

"Sure thing," JT quickly replied. Slowly, he rested his large hand over Malcolm's smaller one, and gave it a squeeze. After he removed it, Dani did the same, her smooth skin once again making her unmistakable. Gil didn't miss the smile that graced Malcolm's face at her touch. She too squeezed his hand before stepping away. Gil's hand immediately replaced hers.

"We'll meet you at the hospital as soon as we can," Dani said. "Hopefully we'll have your phones and his clothes," she added with a grin.

"And my keys and car," Gil replied with a grin.

"Sure thing, boss," JT responded, stepping back towards Dani.

Gil turned back to his kid on the gurney. He squeezed Malcolm's hand, and held on tight as the gurney started to move and he was wheeled up into the ambulance. Malcolm's eyes were wide as they darted around, still unseeing. Now, in the ambulance, was when things were going to get interesting. Gil continued to hold Malcolm's hand, but moved around so that he could card fingers through the kid's hair.

Malcolm was a smart kid. Based on context, he was going to be able to figure out that he wasn't in any danger, and that it was EMS that was inserting an IV and checking his vitals, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to be scared. He'd been through such horrible torture with an IV. It only made sense that he was going to freak out when the EMTs began to do what was going to at first feel like the same thing. Gil needed to keep him as calm as possible.

"He won't handle this well," Gil warned the EMTs as they began to prep the IV. "An IV was how they pumped him full of mystery drugs. He's going to be scared when you do this."

"We'll be as gentle as we can, but we may have to restrain him if he becomes violent," the EMT warned him in return. "That would be a last resort, and it would be upsetting for you to watch. But we may have to." The EMT gently took Malcolm's other arm and maneuvered it to reveal the crook of his elbow. The kid jumped at the contact, but allowed it. It was only when rubbing alcohol was applied over his bruises from the needles that he freaked out.

"No, no," he muttered, trying to pull his arm away, but the EMT held it tight.

"Shhhhh, it's okay," Gil whispered, despite knowing full well that Malcolm still couldn't hear him. He squeezed Malcolm's hand, and slowly let his other hand trail from Malcolm's hair, down his neck and shoulder, to his arm that the EMT needed access to. Gil gave it a squeeze, hoping that Malcolm understood that it was okay, he was safe, and this needed to happen. He didn't know if he would be able to bear it if he had to watch his kid be restrained again.

The kid still kept his arm rigid and tense, shaking in their grasp. He cried out softly as the EMT slipped the needle into his elbow. Gil squeezed again, and lowered himself so that his chin was resting on the gurney, right next to Malcolm's head. When Malcolm turned his head, he would feel that extra bit of contact. It kept Gil contorted in an awkward position, but for Malcolm, he would do anything.

He could feel the kid shaking in his grasp, his breath coming much faster than Gil was comfortable with. Malcolm's eyes were squeezed shut once again in an attempt to hide his tears. Gil began to rub soothing circles on Malcolm's arm, hoping to calm him down. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was whatever the EMTs were giving him, but Malcolm did calm down. His muscles relaxed, and the tension that he'd been holding fell away. At first, Gil was concerned that the kid had passed out, but a quick look over the kid proved that he was very much still conscious.

Malcolm didn't do more than whimper and flinch in protest as the EMTs continued in their jobs. They must have given him a muscle relaxant of some sort. It couldn't have been a sedative, since the kid was still awake.

"Please don't give him a sedative," Gil said, remembering the crucial detail that he'd forgotten in his concern about Malcolm's sight and hearing. "He needs to be able to wake up," he explained.

"We'll see what we can do without it," the EMT conceded. They were mostly focused on keeping his vitals strong anyway.

A few long, long minutes later, and they were rolling up on the hospital. Malcolm clearly realized that something was changing as he was rolled out of the ambulance and through the doors. Gil held his hand the entire time. He wasn't about to let go.

Malcolm squeezed his hand as they made their way into a private room in the ER. He was shaking again, but Gil held his hand tight as he was moved from the gurney to the hospital bed with a cry of surprise.

"The patient has been dosed with at least two mystery substances, and has lost all of his hearing and sight due to that. He's also been strangled. But his vitals are strong," the EMT explained to the nurses before leaving.

"We'll need to do bloodwork, potentially dialysis," the nurse said to her coworkers. She turned to Gil. "And you are?"

"I'm his dad, Gil Arroyo," he said without hesitation. There was no way for them to verify what he was saying, since neither one of them had ID on them. It would take them long enough to find out the truth that by that point, they would see how much Malcolm needed Gil, and let him stay. "This is Malcolm Bright. Because of what they did to him, he is going to freak out when you try to stick him with another needle. It was hard enough to get this one in," Gil said, motioning towards his IV.

"Well, we can't put him under. He needs to be awake for hearing and vision tests," the nurse responded.

"That's fine, you just have to let me stay right here with him. He knows it's me, I can help keep him calm," he insisted, continuing to run his fingers through Malcolm's hair as if to prove his point.

"Okay, you can stay, but we may have to restrain him," she said. Gil nodded. He knew that, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Gil helped Malcolm to sit up, then aided in getting him into a hospital gown. The poor kid was still shivering. Since they needed to leave the IV in one arm, they would be drawing blood from the other one. Carefully, still holding his hand, Gil opened up Malcolm's other arm to reveal the crook of his elbow. Gil squeezed his hand again in an attempt to let him know that it was okay, but he still freaked out when he felt the rubbing alcohol on his skin.

"No, please," he muttered, trying to pull his arm away. Gil held on, and started running his fingers through the kid's hair again to calm him down. Malcolm kept shaking, but allowed the needle to be inserted and his blood to be drawn. He turned his face away and squeezed his eyes shut tight, but Gil didn't leave him. He kept him his calming ministrations, and it seemed to work.

Once Malcolm's arm was bandaged and his blood was rushed off to toxicology, Gil helped Malcolm to sit up once again. He gently wiped a tear away from where it had escaped Malcolm's closed lids, and sat next to him on the hospital bed. Gil pulled the blankets further around his kid's shivering form, and leaned against him a little bit more in order to share his body heat.

"We're going to check his hearing and sight to see if there's any clear indication there of what we're dealing with," the doctor said. She'd walked in at some point, but Gil didn't bother to learn her name.

Gil squeezed Malcolm's hand, his heart breaking at the flinch his kid gave when the doctor put one of those ear scopes into his ear. Malcolm's breath hitched, but he didn't move away from her, and allowed her to examine both ears.

"Everything looks fine," she said, then grabbed a penlight. She shined it into Malcolm's eyes, and the kid didn't so much as flinch. "Eyes are reacting normally as well," she said. "We'll need to do and EEG, maybe an fMRI."

Gil's heart sank at the idea of an fMRI. There would be no way to explain to the kid what was going on, and Gil wouldn't be able to be there and keep him calm. Malcolm would have to be restrained, and left in that tube alone. The kid would probably have a panic attack.

"I really don't think an fMRI is a good idea," Gil said. He wasn't a doctor, but he was a parent, and he needed to look out for his kid in all situations. "He's gonna freak out, and there won't be a way to tell him what's going on."

"I understand that, Mr. Arroyo," the doctor gently responded. "His eyes and ears appear completely healthy, which tells us that there is a problem in the brain caused by the drugs that were injected into his bloodstream."

"They should be bringing you samples from the crime scene," Gil interjected.

"Yes, but we need to do all we can as soon as possible if we are to have the greatest chance of success in restoring his vision and hearing. If it can help your son to see and hear again, isn't it worth it?"

Gil waited for a moment before replying, "let's just keep it as a last resort." She was right. If the only thing standing between Malcolm and getting his senses back was an fMRI, then Gil was going to have to be okay with what it would take to do it. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

"For now, just sit with him. We'll start with an EEG, then see what we have after that." The doctor gave him a gentle smile, then left.

Carefully, Gil maneuvered himself and his kid into a more comfortable position. He moved himself so that he was leaning against the raised back of the bed, then pulled Malcolm to lie against him. The kid immediately relaxed into his arms, leaving one hand in Gil's gentle grasp, and put the other over Gil's heart, clutching at his sweater. His head was on the junction of Gil's shoulder and chest, and he was nearly limp in Gil's arms. That was okay. The kid deserved a moment of comfort after everything he'd been forced to endure. Gil could only hope that his sight and hearing would return sooner rather than later.

After a wonderful respite, during which Gil just rubbed soothing circles on his kid's back and kept him warm, the doctor came back with the EEG. That passed without too much of an issue. Malcolm was clearly very curious as to what was going on, but allowed it to happen without much more than a few flinches of surprise.

"We'll take a look at these readings and see what this means for your son," the doctor said before leaving them alone once again. Gil moved them back into their previous position, which Malcolm seemed more than happy to return to. He melted into Gil's arms, and his breathing slowed once again. It was only when his grip on Gil's sweater faded that Gil realized the kid had fallen asleep in his arms. But that was okay. Gil would sit there as long as Malcolm needed.

As it turned out, the Farlows hadn't been lying. All they needed to do was wait for the drugs to equalize in his system. Something in the drugs had dampened the signals to his occipital lobe and auditory cortex, but once it ran its course, his vision and hearing were expected to completely return. That just left them to wait, and Gil wasn't planning on leaving Malcolm's side.

The first sign that everything was going to be okay came when Malcolm woke up a couple of hours later. He looked around the room from his comfortable place cuddled up against Gil, and a smile slowly spread across his face. Malcolm closed his eyes.

"Dark," he muttered, then opened his eyes. "Light," he said. Malcolm smiled even wider, his eyes filling with tears - this time from joy. He clutched Gil even more, and Gil held onto him even tighter. His vision was coming back. Not everything was pitch black anymore. He was going to be okay.

Another hour after that, and Malcolm began to rub at his ears, the way someone would if there was an incessant buzzing they couldn't get rid of. As horrible as it was, it meant that his hearing was coming back too, and that was all that mattered. Malcolm couldn't keep the smile off his face, but stayed in his place against Gil.

The next twenty-four hours were difficult - it was always hard to get the kid to eat anything, but the situation made it worse, and it was rather difficult to help him in the bathroom as well, but Gil managed - but filled with wonderful moments as Malcolm's senses returned.

Gil was never going to forget the elation in Malcolm's voice as he squinted his eyes and focused on Gil, then shouted, "I can see you!" Clearly, he couldn't make out many details, but the signals were slowly making their way back to his occipital lobe and being processed. Soon enough, his vision would be fully returned.

Gil would never forget the moment that Malcolm surprised himself with his own voice. He'd been oh so quietly humming a song that Gil knew Jackie had sung to him as a kid, but when he actually began to sing, he jumped and immediately stopped.

"I could hear that," he muttered, then immediately brightened up. "I can hear this!" he shouted. Malcolm turned in the bed, eyes locking roughly onto Gil's face, eyes bright with elation. "Gil! I can see you! And I can hear!" he shouted, much louder than he needed to. When the kid muttered, he could tell there was something happening, but when he shouted, he could clearly hear the words. His sight was likely still fuzzy, but he could distinguish Gil from the doctors and nurses, and that seemed to be all that mattered.

"Yeah, kid," Gil responded to Malcolm, the kid understanding his words for the first time in a day. "You're gonna be okay." Malcolm's eyes filled with happy tears once again. He immediately wrapped his arms around Gil as he began to cry into his shoulder.

"I'm gonna be okay. I can see, I can hear. I'll be able to go back to work," he said. Malcolm held onto Gil long enough for his exhausted body to fall back asleep. As always, that was perfectly fine with Gil.

It was going to take a little more time for the kid to actually be okay. His voice was scratchy both from disuse and the abuse it had suffered during his strangulation. There were still vicious bruises circling his throat in clear patterns of fingers, and those would take time to fade. The psychological scars were going to take time to fade too. What Malcolm had been through was horrific, and Gil wasn't expecting him to be immediately okay, even when they got back into the city. It was going to take some time, and a lot of compassion and patience. But Gil had the best team around to help Malcolm get beyond it.

There were definitely some conversations that Gil was going to ask Malcolm to have with his therapist. He knew that the kid had been terrified that he would never be able to work again, aside from the obvious other life changing impacts of going blind and deaf at the same time. The kid needed to work through all of those emotions in a healthy manner, and Malcolm wasn't too prone to dealing with trauma in a healthy way. But Gil was going to be by his side through it all.

The Farlows had thought that Malcolm wouldn't survive the drugs. But they were wrong. As always, Malcolm was proving people wrong about him and showing just how strong he was. He shouldn't have had to, but if anyone could, it was always Malcolm. He was the strongest kid that Gil knew.


End file.
